Collected writings by Michael Baleta
This is a collection of writings originally published on a collaborative blog spanning from 2010 until 2014. It contains small edits for formatting, and typo corrections. This is a tribute to you Mike.
On the sustainability of psyche
2010-03-03
With special regard to training and periods of isolation
“A goal without a plan is just a wish” - Antoine de Saint-Exupery
“Training toward a goal and enjoying that training.” - AdK
“I am infinitely pleased and proud at the appearance of my ‘child’” - Darwin; after seeing the first printed copy of origin (which was over 20 years in the making)
Can you wait 20 years to reap the fruits of your effort? No! We need to take pride and pleasure out of the incremental steps leading toward that ultimate goal. That “ultimate goal” which in all likelihood is not discernible at the beginning of the journey. Then what is there to strive for?
You can only know what drives you, and focus on that. Of course, setting tangible goals is essential to any progressive endeavor but these should be secondary or interchangeable: I want surf the Redbull, now there is no Redbull. But this is only secondary, my primary drive is to surf big waves. And so my general training continues.
We are fortunate to know what drives us, now we must proceed by sharpening the tools. For discussion it is useful to divide this process of improvement into five spheres, not forgetting that all are interdependent:
Body - your physical health including diet. Your strengths, and more importantly your weaknesses.
Mind - your mental state, do you control your mind in all situations. “Wherever you go, you bring
yourself: your emotions, …your shortcomings.” (Sebastian Naslund)
Experience - the accumulation of physical and mental skill acquired during training. (Muscle memory and
cultivation of mind over matter, etc.)
Equipment - Without the correct equipment, success is improbable. Your equipment is merely and extension of
yourself allowing your existence under the given conditions.
Playing-field / training-field - What aspects of the training-field are representative of the playing-field.
It is often necessary to utilize various training-fields that together adequately mimic the playing-field. An essay is owed to each of these spheres; this script focuses on sustaining positive energy during training - training should be self-motivating.
I’ve been know to use the Hate word when it comes to my views on cycling, but a significant part of my training regime constitutes cycling. How to keep motivated? It is essential to know why you are doing something and what it is that you want out of it (to improve general fitness and strengthen legs, to surf better, to be more confident in big waves = to enjoy my surfing more).
Once this is known and understood incremental goals must be established. This is to, both, monitor progress and gain pleasure from the task. Satisfaction should be taken from achieving ones goals. Without gaining some form of pleasure from a task it soon becomes draining, rather than stimulating.
(I cycle around the block, I cycle around the block in t = time, by the end of the month I want to cycle around the block in t - 20mins, I push myself to cycle around the block 5mins faster each week, I enjoy seeing the improvement, I want to cycle to better my time, I enjoy reaching those targets. But continually my subconscious is telling me I’m going to enjoy my surfing more.)
This should all be fairly self evident. But what happens when you don’t reach an increment and your time around the block is slower, how do you find the energy to push-on?
(I’m swimming up the Orange River. I can hardly see my hands and all I hear is the drum-like action of my arms accompanied by a monotonous breathing rhythm 1, 2, 3, inhale, 1, 2, 3, inhale, 1, 2, 3… I’m struggling to better my time, I just feel heavy, I know that swimming maintains my fitness, I know that when I’m fit I will enjoy my surfing, I tell myself this - repetitively! Nothing! I had a bit of flu, but I’ve recovered? Something is just not right. I try to push, but there is just nothing.)
Mental fatigue is difficult to identify, as the physical manifestations are exceptionally diverse. Listen to your body. Rest IS training.
(I spend time with my family, I quarter my training so I don’t lose my habits, I party a little and eat junk food, I see pics of my friends pushing themselves, I sleep late… And then I’m back!)
Discipline is only needed to form good habits, once you have a positive habitual routine in place it is easy to maintain. Don’t let resting disturb this routine. If your are sick and, say, can’t go to yoga, rather roll-out you matt and lie on it for and hour than watch TV. Keep your hard earned habits. It is also important to remember that after a rest period you cannot immediately begin at the same point. No matter how excited you are. Work your way back to the previous high. Force yourself to cycle around the block in t + 20mins.
(I’m uncertain as to the precise catalyst, but I just feel solid again. I go for a swim, it feels effortless, I see those same pics of my friends and now I can’t contain myself, I know that moment in the photo, I want to be there, I will do everything I can to be prepared, I found my psyche).
It is essential to surround yourself with like minded people. Maybe they don’t surf but they do want push the limits of their discipline in a similar fashion. That collective - your true friends - will keep you psyched. By their example and by their stoke you can maintain yourself through periods of uncertainty. Sometimes just knowing that you are out-there pushing yourself is enough of a spark to push myself a little harder. Also, you will no-doubt be an inspiration to others. And in this way the psyche is self-sustaining and self-perpetuating… Having a conscious awareness of this is paramount.
Initially I wanted to put forward ideas on the difference between training for long- and short-term goals. Although in typing, this script has evolved along is own course. But, it is what it is.
The G-Spot
2010-03-31
There are currently three surf camps at G-Land with space for 160 surfers and there’s a fourth camp on the way. We are the first trip for the season and a total of about 16 surfers are there (including us and all the camps).
After 12 hours on the bus from Bali to Java we finally arrive at JoYo’s Surf Camp with the sun just coming up over the ocean. Breakfast is served and everyone is amping to hit the water. The swell is marginal and the tide is wrong with a slight on-shore. Also, I had two nights of fever and the glands in my groin were badly swollen – should have looked after that little scratch a bit better. So I opted out and went to bed instead.
By the afternoon everyone was finished. And I had just risen in time for the pushing tide. Feeling slightly energized I grabbed my board.
I’ll never forget this session.
I left the camp and walked out onto the exposed reef. (The camp is down at the end of the point and there is a foot path to the top that goes through the jungle). I took a slow walk along the reef. It took me at least half an hour, stopping to check the life in the pools and the odd set rolling down the infamous point. I never saw a single person not even a local fisherman. I had the wave to myself for about two hours. It felt like I’d always imagined – like in the old-school vid’s of Gerry Lopez and the boys. Back when G-Land was still the G-spot of the surfing world, stuck away in the virgin jungle.
Anyway I spoke to the doc later that evening and he said it was bad and would get serious if I didn’t stay out the water for a couple of weeks. He was worried the infection would spread to the bone. I could see the concern in his eyes and also that he knew I was never going to stay out the sea for that long. I managed three days of not surfing at G-Land then a decent swell arrived.
I’m blessed to have had my first time happen the way it did. And I thank God that most men cant find the M-Spot.
The Numbers Catch-Up
2010-04-12
Fok Bra’s I had a serious nearly! Or did I?
So I was talking to some people the other day about pushing oneself and listening to your feelings and listening to that little voice that guides your decisions, being in ‘the zone’. I do listen, and generally very well, hence my surviving many ‘situations’. I can’t understand why I so often ‘get away’ with insignificant damage - all I can say is that I really do believe the world is spinning for me, I always put so much conscious energy into positive outcomes. I tell myself every day I can’t die!
It’s about 08:00 and I’m heading to Canggu for a surf. The Bypass (double lane each way with concrete divider) is real busy, space between trucks, cars and scoot’s is non-existent. You never have much more than 3 meters of clear road ahead and this entire mass is moving along at about 80km/h. I have my board in the rack on the left of the scoot, short shorts, a vest, and crappy helmet. No modesty, I’m good, real good! I’m doing about 95km/h weaving through holes left by a local kid (whom I’m catching up to quickly). Just so alert - taking in tons of info, calculating, predicting, deciding, reacting. This guy dashes across the first lane and finds a tiny gap just before the center line, I’m just on the other side of the line with a car to my right and a scoot to my left. He’s maybe 15meters in front of me when he looks and runs. (I suppose the other scoot would have hit him dead-on if he hadn’t moved).
I swerve to the right and just clip him with my board and left handle-bar. Scoot goes down - I go up and over. I tumble uncontrollably 4 or 5 full rotations maybe more, just stay completely relaxed Michael. It’s a total blur, then I back-flip and take 2 huge bounding steps backward to keep up with the momentum - so relaxed - everything slows down. I see the car that was on my right and now on my left cruise past me, a scoot dodges my scoot which is sliding toward me and another scooter dodges me. I make myself small again to force the roll so i don’t break an ankle flipping and bounding. I come to a stop about 70 meters from impact standing on the white line. I move to the side walk. Nothing is obviously broken! Slip back onto the tarmac to retrieve the scoot. It starts first time. I turn to check if the other guy is ok. He’s sitting on the pavement all the up the road and doesn’t look to be in mortal danger. As I start walking toward him a police man starts toward me - corruption, bribes, extortion. No thanks! Get on the scoot, some dude in the small crowd that’s gathering asks me where I’m staying. I lie, cradle my arm like its broken and ask directions to the hospital. I never went near a hospital, instead straight to the busy part of town…
Some minor roasties on both elbows, knees and right foot (wasn’t wearing shoes). My board is fine. Nothing of any significance. I really feel bad about connecting with that guy and especially not sticking around, but fuck. I was thinking that morning on the ride to Canggu, if the numbers would eventually catch-up with me. And I suppose they did, but at least I learned a lesson; to continue staying positive and listening to my feelings. I’m back on the horse/scoot and still driving like I do, focused and calculating. I understand the risks, now even more so. It doesn’t scare me. I’m more worried that if I stop using my luck, it will dilute away. A second slower or a second faster - it can be argued both ways. I know that for me it’s best to keep pushing forward. Hati-Hati.
Wax Smile
2010-06-09
I often scrape little balls of wax off of my board and press them back-on, toward the nose of the board, in the shape of a smile. It helps to pass the time between sets, but more importantly it’s my conscious effort to exercise positive thinking. Seeing those little wax smiles make me happy and reminds me how powerful a smile can be. Those days when it’s just not happening for me; when my swell magnet is switched-off, when I’m falling for no reason. I see the smiles and tell myself to smile. It doesn’t matter that I fall – I can actually obtain pleasure by being aware of my existence in such beautiful environments – sitting in the ocean feeling the natural flow of energy and allowing my mind to calm. Hippie shit.
I often think of Andrew Marr when I’m in the water at crowded/competitive breaks. He always has a smile and gives a hoot for anyone going for a good wave. When he’s around the entire atmosphere changes and everyone has more fun! I’ve seen the same thing when Arjan gets in the water. It’s amazing to see the effect we can have on our environment and the people within.
I’ve been patient, very patient waiting for the bomb set. Some chop blatantly drops-in on me. I pull-into the barrel behind him. There is spray everywhere and I can’t see anything just trusting my line. He bails. I come off the bottom and hit the lip before hopping over the shoulder and start paddling back up the point. As I pass, he makes a half-ass apology. I say “no-worries man, there’s plenty of space for everybody”. Not to sound cocky but so that everyone else can feel the good vibes. Seriously, I’m in Bali surfing my heart out and I just got barrelled. There is nothing to complain about.
Keep the Peace
Stoke the Gees
April
2010-06-16
Today was kak, woke-up and couldn’t shake that little niggle in the recesses of my consciousness. But I could hear the waves breaking while lying in bed waiting for the sun to do its thing. At first light I headed down to the look-out point for visual confirmation, I stubbed my toe rather badly. Michael, can’t you just concentrate? Went back to the flat and doctored the toe. It took me three tries to leave base, kept forgetting little crap. Despite a few other minor niggles, including a no petrol in the scoot situation, I finally made it to the beach. The waves were solid, good barrels but not much wall for turning. I patiently make my way to the top of the pack and drop into a bomb. Pull-in and get shut down! Every wave I catch closing-out or falling flat. Ok, go home and take it easy, the body is definitely talking.
It’s supposed to be smaller than yesterday (?) but I head back to the same spot. There are only 20 people in the water (1/3 of yesterday) and it’s slightly smaller with no wind. I watch the line-up from the warung and eat a mie goring while sipping on a Bali kopi. Gathering myself and commanding my consciousness – I hit the water and hit it hard! The waves come to me. Even one of the hard-ass locals (with whom I’ve had ‘encounters’) seems friendly and even calls me into a couple of bombs. I’m number 3 away from the peak and beaut’ starts to build on the outer reef. Number 1 is too deep and number 2 paddles. Then for no reason hesitates. I swing round take a half stroke and stand-up in the barrel. Maybe 6 seconds later I come out clean and bust an air. It was one of many great waves that day.
Nothing really changed since yesterday, well except for me. Sometimes I’m just too fatigued to overcome that little niggle. Rest is training!
Arriving home
2010-06-23
I had the longest shower ever and waited until the water got cold. Then I just passed the fuck out! Got up early and went for breakfast on a nearby wine farm with Arjan and my bro (Marc). It was raining and cold. Fuck it’s good to be cold. We had a proper coffee and the hugest breakfast in front of the fire. The warm glow and familiar crackling along with being close to my family… the normal lethargic response was absent. Instead we are full of gees (energy, psyche and spirit), planning the next angle of attack (climb, surf, paddle… etc). Winter in the Cape, fucking stoked!
The next day we (Marc and I) head down the coast to visit our ballies (parents), via a canoe race my bro wanted to do. We arrived early. The river is glass with low lying mist blanketing the surrounding vineyards and not too far away the familiar Langeberg Mountains silhouetted by the pink and orange aura of the rising sun. Slowly the mist adopts the colour of the sky and my bro glides through the water disturbing the morning glass on his warm-up run. Twenty six kilometres downstream I’m sitting with Pierre, the winner, on the grassy bank overlooking the finish line. Suddenly Pierre jumps up; “is that marc – already”! It’s my bro’s fourth race and the longest he’s ever done. Finishing a couple of minutes behind the leaders, he needs another six months of hard training and he’ll be very competitive. So we’ve been training! Up at 5am running, core, stretching, slackline, surfing, paddling, climbing… completely maxing out. I just want to do everything as much as I can, every day. Sometimes I have too much energy in me and I just need to scream to let it out. Aaaaaarg!
Days in the office
2010-08-11
This room is so big, and I’m camping out in one corner. It was an early night – the weekend really took its toll, but I did enjoy abusing my body. I wake to the sound of crashing waves. It’s just after 3am and I’m wired! I know I need more rest consciously trying to relax my mind. But it drifts, always returning to the same images of waves, rocks, and now fjords. Tossing around until 04:45 I cant take it anymore. I have a stretch then pack the car in preparation for the coming day. I’m suited by 05:30. The sun won’t be up for at least another hour and a half.
Around 06:45 I message a couple of the boys and start paddling into the darkness. By the time I’m at the back, there’s just enough of a pink tinge to the sky to see an approaching set. I move out the way, watching vigilantly, what mood is she in today? There’s a mild offshore but completely manageable, and I’m on the next decent wave. It’s really difficult out there, and I got caught a couple of times, but also did some catching. Jacque and Jason joined me just after eight. It was really nice to have some company, you’re always on edge when you out there alone.
By ninish the wind was getting to me and I was really cold. I paddled inside to catch a wave out and a good one came through. I never paddle hard enough. Lip Launched and Pounded. Thoroughly! If you wanna play you gotta pay.
I’m in the office by ten, making small talk about the long weekend… blah blah blah, good thing I did my screaming in the mountains.
Intrinsic Motivation
2010-11-11
“The incentive to undertake an activity based on the expected enjoyment of the activity itself, rather than external benefits that might result” - en.wiktionary.org
“Another way of looking at intrinsic motivation is to see it as the expression of an instinctual urge to master the environment” - Rhona Ochse
I often struggle to relate to people, trying to find some common ground some frame of reference? I couldn’t care less about Andy Irons pegging (when I off myself please don’t come to some paddle out if you don’t even know my middle name (or names), Kelly winning his 10th Title (I have infinite respect for a person so dedicated to progress. Talent = Hard Work + Sacrifice), Eskom welcoming a R20bn Government Boost or that the Proteas are Counting on Amla (Times Live)… blah blah blah.
The only thing I really care about. Wait, actually its a little more than just ‘caring about’ - my entire being is completely focussed on how the rock feels under my finger tips - it’s a flat edge but the friction is great considering the warmth of the mid morning sun. Moving my right foot out over the nothingness I consciously place my big-toe on the little edge, which I had tick-marked earlier while rapping down the intended line. Shifting my weight out I carefully watch the rubber mould onto the rock and catch a glimpse of two spandex clad cyclists far below. This is exactly where it’s at!
The body position is fairly balancy and rather exposed but I’m so solid. I release my left hand, slowly, very deliberately moving away from the rock barely enough to allow my hand unobstructed access to the good side pull just in front of my chest.
One full breath.
Sort out the feet. Reach for the good hold on the ledge. An easy mantle and another ‘uneventful’ mission complete. Maybe this line has been climbed or maybe not. Never the less I’ll name it Intrinsic Motivation give it some relative grade and go down to the local coffee shop and make small talk, probably about the weather, the game or how hectic the blah blah blah….
Part 1: It’s my birthday and I’ll die if I want to
2011-05-20
Like a tiny pebble in your shoe, that constant niggling self-doubting “what if” question. It’s more like a short video clip that plays on repeat every time my mind quietens – a hold breaks, a foot pops or whatever and I fall away from the rock. That moment when some part of me is still touching the earth but the inertia of my outward momentum is inescapable. In 4 to 8 seconds I’ll impact and it’ll all be over. It doesn’t scare me! It frustrates me to the nth degree; I’m falling to my death for something so trivial and I won’t be able to do all those other fun things I like to do. Stupid Boy! But, as gravity acts on all mass, I must go; I must spend time in these situations (physically & mentally). I don’t know why in need to but I do.
The previous night, after my normal training, I spent about 40minutes breathing and visualizing the possible outcomes (of consequence) for my plans on the 20th. If I do fall should I roll onto my back stair into the heavens or turn and track a far as I can. If that shark does get feisty will I punch it on the nose or poke it in the eye. I make dead certain that I end with a seamless string of visualizations from topping-out to being spat-out to ending a great day with a big smile and sense of contentness.
The morning of the 20th is overcast with a serious threat of rain. TM looked like it had a thin veil of clouds. Actually it was in the clouds. I was just really desperate to act-out the previous evenings mind games. While driving over Chappies it started to drizzle and I made the ’wise’ decision, and headed up to Silvermine. I did a couple of single pitches and headed back home to swap gear. By the time I got to the dive site Steve Benjamin & Hanli were just leaving. It was cool to see them but I was happy to have the place to myself. At 15 sharks in that many minutes I stopped counting.
After the dive it was back to Kom for a very dismal kite session, then my first coffee for the year, woohoo. Went for a quickie at the Boiler in the late afternoon when the swell had started to pick-up. It was big, messy storm surf with nobody around just like those countless sessions at my local in the Garden Route. I never got spat-out of any barrels, unlucky. After a hot shower, I headed over the mountain to visit my family for dinner via a quick slack-line session on the Rondebosch Common.
I met up with Ruan in town and we headed out to the chosen site. It was about 23:00 and was walking around on the bridge setting-up the swing. Every time a car approached I would conceal the gear as best as possible and stroll around nonchalant. As if you can act casual on a bridge in the middle of no-where on a dark stormy night. WTF. So I did the bag test and ran down to check what the clearance looked like. I had given it about 4 meters of extra slack. The bag was hanging with not much more than two meter of clearance. Even without that slack the rope stretch from the weight of a person would’ve put the apex of the swing somewhere in the ground. We moved the gear further across and did the bag test again. Plenty of clearance and we were good to go. I climbed over the barrier rail, shouted one final check to Ruan and jumped! Aaaaaarg yes! So psyched. While I was penduluming around I check the time - 23:58. Got it all done in a day.
As the swinging slowed, Ruan lowered me to the ground. I took up my position on the other end of the rope and Ruan ran up to tie-in for the jump….
Part 2: It’s my birthday and I really don’t want to die
2011-05-20
I’m tethered to the car with the rope taught patiently waiting for Ruan to get his shit sorted out, on the jumping end of the rope. It’s always going to feel like an eternity, waiting for the other guy to jump – and there’s just never enough time to check and double check your knots before jumping. While waiting I notice a car cruising along the other fly-over. The blue lights on top made it hard to miss. Ruan was taking a little longer that he should have and then the rope goes slack as I watch the jumping end drop with nothing on the end. I phoned Ruan to get a hasty reply (shouting full sentences was not efficient); “I’m just speaking to the police’ I’ll call you back”. If there is anyone you can sweet-talk the police it’s Ruan. So we did the bag test to demonstrate what we were up to. (The bag survived). I run up to see what was going on and help with any negotiations. Constable Nthethe was the man in charge. Super friendly and surprisingly cheerful – I think that when you rush to the scene of an attempted suicide (apparently the few cars that did drive past thought we were trying to off ourselves and the police got numerous calls) and find a couple crazy people chasing cheap thrills you can see the lighter side of things. So Ruan pulls out the Blackberry to show Constable Nthethe and his crew so images of the other stuff we do. They seem convinced and are about to move out when the good Constable turns and asks; “are you sure you don’t want to die?”
Psyched!
The MAS is dead, Long Live the The MAS
2011-06-01
It’s Monday the 14th March 2011 at about one o’clock and I’ve been watching the swell build on the wavebouy. I’m overheating, I can’t sit still. The reaction has started and the energy is building exponentially. I feel constricted by my body, almost claustrophobic, I’m about to explode. By 16:00 I’m strapping on my leash and paddling out to Sunset Reef.
Standing in the parking lot the bay was overcome with a morass of gigantic swell, untamed whitewash and the air filled with the deep rubble of monster waves. But as soon as I pushed off from the shore and started to paddle-out there was a conspicuous dulling of the loud rumble. The waves had produced a thick froth on the surface of the ocean which seemed to suck the sound out of the air, only to leave an airy din.
James Lowe, Si’, Andy, Smithers and Jayson Hayes were already out there with Jeremy H on the ski playing rescue ranger. Si and James went for a bomb. James made it and Si got thrashed. He very nearly earned a two wave hold-down, lucky there wasn’t another one behind. Then a cleanup set did its job and it was only Andy, Si and myself remaining. They went to drop-off Jeremy H so that they could tow. I was out alone for about twenty nervous minutes trying not to get caught by a rough one. The two old dogs returned and Si put Andy into the second wave in a set, I went for the third. Si saw it from the ski. I was just off the peak – but fuck. I made the wave, barely and paddled out wide to avoid the remaining sets. It was definitely some of the biggest waves I’ve ever surfed and most definitely the wildest! Si dragged me back to the spot on the ski. I was sitting about six or seven hundred metres further out than on a normal Sunset day. Andy and Si were about 150 metres further waiting to start the tow run.
I saw a set building way far out, definitely a really big set. I started paddling out into the middle of no-where. Big deep, full, slow breath. Not paddling frantically, just hard confident strokes. As the set approached I could see a ‘little’ one in the front with three successively big waves building behind it. As I paddled over the little one I saw how big the other waves were – it was already too late what ever happened I was going to be caught! So I turned and when for the first proper one. I just scraped into it. Got a little air under the board and stabilised a third of the way down the face. As I negotiated some rather large bumps, my inside rail snagged and trying to corrected I missed my chance to come-off the bottom and get onto the face. Straightening out there was enough time to get a full breath and watch the monster grow to its full height before releasing all its power onto that special place – that place exactly where I was helplessly waiting. But this is exactly what I train for. I’m calm and relaxed, relatively. If the leash had snapped I may not have been able to write this junk. I could feel it stretching to the absolute limit. I took the rest of the set on the head and almost a kilometre from where I started Andrew raced toward me on the ski. The worst was by far over but it was so good to see him. I got my breath and paddled back to the beach.
Another epic day with hardly anyone around! The magnitude of that swell was not realised by almost anyone. No photos, No proof, No MAS… Long Live the MAS
The price of cocaine
2011-06-20
Cherie found a box of old photos in the cupboard and put them up around the house. This one was placed above the bathroom sink, just below the mirror. It’s a photo of my friend Jacque Theron (a legend in the cape big wave scene). I don’t know who took it or when it was taken. I do know that it must have been a solid day at Sunset Reef. Every time I look at it my mind is immediately transported to that special place; I insert myself in the barrel, I’m taking of where Jacques is, I’m caught inside watching that lip heading my way while trying to get a good breath or sometimes I’m just paddling back-out staring, mesmerised by her power and perfection and lured by the possibility of intimately existing with a creature so wild yet infinitely beautiful… This is my cocaine!
So another ‘swell’ and another disappointment. It really looked like shit yesterday, but we hope and some of us probably pray that some magic might happen. At 04:50 I check the wavebouy and, oh my goodness, the swell had spiked. I’m struggling to contain myself as I try to leave the house quietly – not too much longer and I’ll have my fix! (I worked on the weekend in anticipation of this promise – it’s bad for my psyche to work on the weekend). We’re on the boat waiting in the channel just before first light. What mood will she be in today? Confused, sick, lifeless and possibly depression had started to set in – she was in no mood to play. We had the boat out of the water and cleaned by 08:45, then headed around the corner to paddle at another spot. Disappointing is all I have to say.
The weatherman made a promise; he told me I would get my cocaine but all he brought was a box of cigarettes.
So, for now, I’ll let my mind wonder through this photo exploring every possible situation. It’s enough of a fix to keep me training, to maintain that headspace, to be ready to dance when she wants to party.
Fortune cookie wisdom
2011-08-10
[Obsessive behaviour is a prerequisite for progressive action]
Fuck fuck fuck… what the fuck have I been up to. Nothing!
I feel like hedonismbot – indulging in all those things that people seem to enjoy; beer, pizza, bread, bacon, eggs, melted cheese and OMG even caff’d coffee. I had deep fried hake and chips two evenings in a row. Shit Mike, what’s happening?
Steve Benjamin and I headed to the reserve to go for a quick dive. The conditions were shit on both sides of the peninsula and it didn’t take a lot for us to convince ourselves that it wasn’t worth getting in – I actually want to get sick typing this. Steve, I’m so sorry man, I let us down. We should have just gotten wet. It’s ALWAYS better than staying high and dry.
The first four months of 2011 was full-on training and discipline in anticipation of the coming winter. We go that super big swell in March. But not much else really happened. It’s August now and it still hasn’t happened. I realised all that pent-up psyche needed a release. But instead of actively finding some epic physical challenge I’ve subconsciously been releasing the energy by partaking in passive sociably acceptable behaviour – I’ve basically become a pussy.
It crept up on me, but I caught it just in time. I’m back on the programme! Deb’s was saying the other day that; “Michael doesn’t sleep, he recharges”. Yes!
So it’s Monday morning in the office and i’m finding every oppertunity to fit in a little extra exercise; leg-ups between the table and counter while the kettle boils, pull-ups on the door frame everytime i go in/out of my office and ‘randomly’ doing a yoga pose when an office conversation starts to bore me - fire the accelor-ray!
I will do what I must.
….and he’s outta’ here….
The Boiler
2011-08-12
I arrive home from work at about 17:37, AdK and entourage have also just pull-in. It’s been a long day at work and I NEED to get my head wet. The Boiler is the only half decent spot given the time limit imposed by the setting sun. I’m suited up in a flash and start to hurry-along the other guys; Arjan’s also psyched and suited, Danny just woke-up and is lagging and Lefty is slightly hesitant.
“So, Arjan, can these foreigners surf?”
“Ja, Danny’s fine he spent a couple of months in Indo.”
“And the other dude?”
“Lefty has only been in the water twice… but he can just sit on the shoulder”
“mmm… Ja, he should be cool”
It was about 4, maybe 5 foot and a bit lumpy and bumpy with a medium-low tide. Three other guys were out. That big old yellow fellow in the sky was slowing dipping behind the ominous leading edge of an approaching front. The dark and gloomy horizon and wild looking shore-line couldn’t have looked very inviting.
I had a couple of little waves by the time AdK and Danny had made it to the back. Then my fin broke-out while doing a big top turn (coz I’m that powerful – claim!) and I headed back to shore. Lefty has been standing on the rock deciding on how good an idea this is. I give him the basic rules of the ocean and convince him that if you don’t go, you’ll never know.
The Boiler is no joke! Getting in and out over the rocks is tricky at best. The wave itself is often compared to a scaled down version of Mavericks – holding off until it hits the underlying rock shelf, then the lip projects forward with serious attitude destroying anything that crosses its path.
I walk out with him till we are knee deep in white wash.
“Don’t worry man, the worst that happens is the board gets dinged and that doesn’t matter, anyway I’ll come rescue you if it gets serious. Jump! Go go go! Paddle dude, Paddle”.
He’s lying too far back on the board and he can’t even duck-dive. He can’t duck-dive, wtf! He gets buffeted by a couple of little froth monsters but gets to the back, miraculously, before the next sets start rolling in. I realised he’s gonna be in The Shit on the way back to shore, especially since there was about 15mins of decent light left. So I paddle back out. I’m halfway to the peak when a set approaches. The second wave is top-to-bottom, with Lefty inside the pitching lip. It looks like those classic photos of guys going over the falls at Pipe (Hawaii). He breaks the surface, dazed and struggling to catch his breath. I help him paddle back to shore.
“You good man, just take big deep breathes and relax. I told you I won’t let you die”
Safely back on the rock above the high water mark, and Lefty is puking his guts out! But he’s alive.
Not a millisecond of discernable panic or hesitation. Lefty – impressive and inspirational. Or maybe just fool hardy and blindly trusting. I like to think it’s the former. But either way it was worth the laugh, for me, and after this experience learning to surf should be trivial.
To Joseph Malbos - Happy birthday!
2011-08-30
